Cave of Tranquility
by NCR Ranger
Summary: John-117 and his team get some well deserved R and R.


0840, local clock

Outer Colony world of Levosia

September 2nd, 2545

Spartan-2 Blue Team

* * *

4 hours in, and the rain hadn't stopped falling.

Calling it " rain " wasn't doing it full justice, though. It could more accurately be called " a giant shower head turned on the whole region ", because that's how hard the sheets of water were coming down. Countless drops were falling so close together, that they badly obscured visibility out beyond a few hundred yards from the mouth of the cave.

There were no human settlements this far out into the wilds, and the ground was already fairly muddy and porous. Even so, however, the sheer volume of rain was too much and coming in too hard to be soaked up fast. Puddles wide enough for a Kodiak artillery vehicle to fit across were forming everywhere that there were big enough dents and gouges in the soil for them to form, and the sharply carved rock faces that marked the lone, elevated approach to the cave were thoroughly and constantly wet from all the heavy precipitation.

At the edge of the jungle's treeline, which sprawled out like a gargantuan jade carpet out for miles and miles out to both east and west, a scattered few pronghorns- the odd looking, horned 4 legged animals that the Spartans' Field Handbook's flora and fauna section said had been carried all the way here generations ago from Earth herself, despite jungles not being their natural habitat- bounded past, their white tails brilliantly visible against the backdrop of the rainforest floor foliage. They were willing to get soaked to keep trekking across the planet to reach the higher elevations.

Such storms were common here. The planet's inhabitants- human and otherwise- had gotten used to living with and under the torrents. They were useful for feeding the agriculture sector, and helped keep the massive stretches of foliage lush. It helped Levosia thrive.

As the landscape , and everything living in it got thoroughly doused by the torrent of rain, the Master Chief observed it all from the mouth of the cave.

He shifted his gaze left and right methodically, scanning for any hint of movement that wasn't animal. With his augmented senses, that was as straightforward as breathing, though after the decade plus of training under the tutalage of Senior Chief Mendez, no Spartan ( including him ) would rely solely on his augs to give him the advantage.

_Don't merely 'look '. Examine. _

However, nothing showed. The rain kept falling anyway, producing a constant swishing, pattering sound as the millions of drops hit the smoothness of plant leaves, or sank right into the muddy ground.

Standing like a emerald pillar, the Spartan's weapon of choice- an MA2B rifle, loaded with expanding tip rounds- rested comfortably in both his suited hands' grip, as he observed the soaked countryside. He'd decided that he actually liked the feeling the clammy humidity and moisture of the stone mouth of the cave on bared skin of his face.

Spartans, all Spartans, whether they were IIs, IIIs, or IVs, spent so much of their days ( and often, nights, ) in their armor, that it was easy to forget what it was like to have any of it removed. John had placed his helmet on a low rock by his legs, ready at hand to be snapped back on in a heartbeat if need be.

But, for now, there was no need. He wanted to enjoy himself, by savoring the rain.

He couldn't remember much rain during his childhood- what _very little_ of it he'd actually had- on Eridanus II. Further down the line, the Spartan-II training complexes on Reach had experienced plenty of rain, of course; John remembered many of the forced marches he and the other candidates had undertaken while full blown _thunderstorms_ raged overhead. Lugging rucksacks that weighed half as much as themselves, they'd slogged and plowed through seas of boot-swallowing mud while balancing the heavy loads they'd been saddled with, and getting soaked all the way through their fatigues.

It was the kind of wetness you didn't think you could ever dry off from. Back then, the rain was a tool that old Chief Mendez had bludgeoned them with, and not much more.

Here and now, though, the rain was the _rain. _John felt a curious sensation, standing here, watching it fall. Was this what civilians liked doing ?

_Its not bright enough out there, though. I need city lights. Its better when I know there's human civilization around me._

_Out here, as beautiful as it is, I can't stop remembering what's hiding out there._

A thunderclap crack the air at that moment, sounding rather close to an artillery salvo landing. Or a bomb going off.

_Bombs, and artillery. The Insurrection. _

_That's_ why Blue Team was here, on Levosia. While the bulk of the UNSC was fully committed to holding the line against the Covenant, as Humanity continued their struggle ( it couldn't truly be called a war, in the usual term of the word. The Covenant were not out to " defeat " Humanity. They wanted to utterly erase it. ) in the rapidly expanding conflict, the rebel factions fanatically remained committed to their own mad agenda.

Out here on Levosia, there were camps of some of those stubborn dissidents.

Raids. Terrorism. The attacks and raids against the main cities, which remained loyal to the UNSC at large, had resulted in the Spartan-II branch being brought in to help cut the head off the snake. They were not guerilla fighters, despite their heavy use of such tactics as night raids, ambushes, and bombings. They were, as Insurrectionists are, terrorists.

_" Fighting for Freedom ". Ha. Any of these Rebels who says that then turns around and carries out a bombing on a luxury liner. Any who doesn't claim anything like that, like the ones we met on Alpha Corvi II, are not true rebels._

_As a whole, the Insurrection is a major threat. And what better way to destabilize terrorist groups, than to remove their leaders from the board ? Dead or alive, getting rid of them throws everyone under them into chaos. It did the trick with Watts' merry band._

Local ONI operative cells deployed to the planet ( or, unless they'd already been there all along. ONI was like the Spanish Inquisition; nobody knew when to expect them. ) , and operating out of the nearby city of New Johannesburg had been tracking high ranking Insurrectionist cell leaders into this general region. On their intel, Blue Team had been dropped by Pelican into the wilds, and had found a suitable location to bivouac themselves, where they could defend themselves easily if attacked, and also maintain surveillance of the area. When they got word from ONI to move, they'd be ready.

The combat that would follow was better than waiting for it. At least in combat, you were certain of things. Waiting for it, though, you weren't.

_Don't keep us waiting. It reminds me too much of Jennifer-25, back on Reach. She was always late on every of those forced marches. Always saying she was busy getting her bootlaces tied up again. Always saying she was tired. It was crazy hectic for all of us, but we made time._

At least John could always count on his team.

He knew, for example, that above him right now, Linda had found a spot to turn into a sniper's hide. She was currently perched higher up the cliff face where the cave was, with her personally crafted S2 sniper rifle " Nornfang " pointed downrange.

John had stated he would take the fist watch, but he hadn't had any objections to Linda expressing her desire to also stand guard, even though she'd have stood down if he'd ordered her to. The unrivaled markswoman always felt better when she could look through a scope, anyway; having her do it while the team needed to stay on hair trigger alert seemed like a perfect opportunity. John knew that nothing that was alive would last long if it got seen by the redheaded Spartan woman.

_For her, 1 shot really does mean 1 kill. 3, even, if they're standing in a row. Or, maybe even more than 3._

Behind him, deeper into the cave and well back from the wetness of its mouth, sat the rest of Blue Team.

Frederic-104 was once again sharpening his knives. He always carried 2 of them, with serrated edges. The designated " best spotter " of Blue Team scraped the blades of his knives against their sharpening block, producing a _schrrk, schrrk _rhythm of metal getting honed. That was typical Frederic; he was a bit of a loner, though not nearly as much as Linda. That solitide had, however, evidently produced a surprisingly sharp tactical mind. Other members of Blue Team would often consult him for his input, or for his assessment/ reports on a situation.

He had a special fondness for getting up close and personal. Frederic had long ago emerged as the of the top hand to hand fighters among the Spartan IIs, and carrying twin knives didn't hurt his lethality at that range. John had watched him bury one of them up to the hilt into the neck of a Sanghelli warrior aboard the Covenant assault carrier _Resplendent Fervor_ .

_What an absurd name for a warship_

Frederic had conducted himself well in that fight, however. John had no doubt he'd perform to that level for the foreseeable future.

Well, that left one more Blue: Kelly.

One corner of John's mouth- the left side- turned up, with a slight amount of amusement at what he knew had to be frustrating Kelly to no end:

They were stuck waiting, and Kelly was not one to do that. She was the fastest Spartan, and by extension, essentially the fastest human alive anywhere in the Galaxy. Kelly was built for speed ( both in and out of armor ); she was eager to be out in the field, using that amazing swiftness to scout for, outflank, and close in with their enemies.

_Hate to say this, Kelly, but we're off the clock. Unoffically, but yes._

If the way Kelly had outpaced even the advanced targeting matrixes of the MK1 Powered Armor suits of their trainers back on Reach so easily was any indicator, John looked forward to putting her to use as the team's rabbit again when they next entered combat. There would be no catching up to her when that rolled around. Unless she allowed it, that is.

_And if you're a Covenant or a rebel, she won't_

For now, she was seated by the crackling fire the team had built up ( enough to produce a degree of heat, but not so much as to produce ammounts of smoke that could drift out of the cave and give away their position ) as near the cave's mouth as they could without it being seen from the outside. The cavern was high enough so they didn't need to duck to get in, or crouch and stay on their knees when inside.

In other words, Kelly could stretch her legs- the long, muscular ones she had beneath the layers of MJLONIR armor-, but not run. Yet.

She was his Blue Two, though. She and the others, that was his team. His Blues. There were not enough words for how much he trusted them, and vice versa. That's why they'd lasted this long as a team.

They had the team dynamic down.

Feeling satisfied they were all squared away, John eased himself off the cave's wall, which was trickling with rain runoff, and took a seat on a slab of rock that extended partially across the mouth. It'd occurred to him that this slab could ser

Abruptly, he heard the sound of crunching gravel, over the echoes of the rain.

By automatic reflex, John turned his head to find Kelly had gotten up from the fire, which was crackling and dancing, glowing orange in the pale light that that had entered the cave. Off to the fire's right, Frederic continued his regimented habit of ensuring that his knives were as sharp as they could possibly be.

Kelly, John's ever loyal second, his Blue Two, came up to him, and stopped. John glanced up at her.

Her helmet was off too, revealing the angular, beautiful face behind. It was decorated with scars here and there, but they'd mostly faded away. Besides, they added a sort of, rough decoration to her appearance. Poking up over the tip of her left shoulder, was the muzzle of her deeply beloved, personalized M45D shotgun- Oathsworn.

_She's been through it, like we all have. That's the crux of it, though: _**We**_ have been through it. Her, me, and all of us. Including Samuel, God rest his soul._

John was about to greet her, but Kelly, true to herself, was faster:

" Mind if I join you ? ", the English-accented brunette asked. She made a " move over ", gesture with one hand.

_That's all redundant. Well, its not as if I have a problem with any of it._

_" _Fine with me, 087. " John promptly obliged, sliding over a few inches.

Kelly took the space that was offered up, and allowed her shoulders to touch the wall of the cave behind her, copying John.

Then, as abruptly as she'd appeared, Kelly leaned over to one side, pressing herself into John's side.

From his tactically comofortable position by the fire, Frederic happened to glance up, and caught the intimate gesture. He blinked for a second with surprise, but soon found himself amused anyway. He was glad to see them getting such a moment to themselves.

Spartans were busy and overworked enough as it was.

It was at that moment, that Linda's voice came in over his helmet speakers:

" 104, 104 this is 054. Everything ok down there ? "

Without missing a beat, Frederic responded. He knew exactly what to say:

" Nothing to report, 054. We're all warm and toasty down here. "

There was a brief pause, and then:

" Oly oly oxen free. "

_She may be a loner, but she won't forget that she is truly one of us_

* * *

The rock solid firmness of Kelly's armor plates clacked against John. The weight of her armor was settled against him, too.

" Suddenly, its not so dull around here ", Kelly remarked.

" I could get used to ducking from the bad guys into caves. Not as rewarding as chasing them down, but its close. "

John expressed thanks in his head that Kelly remained the same, no matter how much went by. Despite all the armor she was swaddled in, her personality shone through.

Over a thousand pounds of Titanium alloy, nanocarbon, and ceramic composite. All the immense bulk and weight of the MJOLINR aside, there was the augmented musculature and bones of the Spartans that made none of them lightweights. Most chairs broke under them, unless specially strengthened.

Plain _big,_ in other words. In a room full of non-Spartans, Kelly was the tallest and biggest person there. Most women would feel uncomfortable; some big bulky thing moving among much smaller ones.

That wasn't a problem for Kelly, though, or any of her kind. And having that familiar mass next to him, was for John a crystal clear reminder that his second- on and off the field- was right there beside him.

Where he wanted her, and vice versa.


End file.
